Classroom fun
by Ayine
Summary: Hermione is stuck with supervising detention. She expects a disturbing first year, but she finds someone completely else. He makes her crazy, but at the same time also very confused. HermionexBlaise


_Disclamer: I only own the plot, the rest belongs to the wonderful Jo._

_A/N: Another one for my best friends birthday. This time HermionexBlaise. Happy 18th Birthday!!!_

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Hermione swore loudly when she almost dropped her books. She shifted them back in her arms and resumed her walking. It was a Friday evening and normally she would be doing something fun with her friends.

Neither Harry nor Ron had Quidditch practice, so probably they would've been playing a game of exploding snap together. Or maybe she would've been talking to Ginny. Everyone was relaxing in the common room after a hard week, at least those who weren't out celebrating in Hogsmeade.

But no, not her. She was out – _on a Friday evening_ – to supervise detention. Fun right? She thought sarcastically.

Normally detentions were looked over by the teacher who gave the detention in the first place, but since Hermione was Head Girl and Professor McGonagall had of course better things to do, she was now stuck being in the same room with some little first year student that thought running in the hallways was fun.

She'd supervised some detentions before and it was never really thrilling. So now, she'd brought her books. If she wasn't allowed to have fun tonight then at least she was going to get some homework done.

She stopped at McGonagall's classroom. She turned around and tried to push the handle down with her elbow without setting down her books.

She pushed down once, she pushed down twice. I didn't work.

"Come on", she said to herself.

She sighed. "Third time lucky," she sang.

The door popped open. She walked in backwards and when she turned around and tried to close the door with her foot, she saw who was sitting in the front row.

"Zabini?!" She said disbelievingly. No ickle first year bully, but a big annoying seventh year prick. How wonderful.

"Correct. The one and only." He answered with that trade mark smirk every Slytherin seemed to posses.

"Oh," Hermione said. It was official, life just didn't like her.

"Yes, _oh_. Now could you please give me the assignment. It's a Friday evening for everyone." Zabine slouched in his chair. Looking all like the king he thought he was, although he was currently in detention.

Hermione rummaged through her parchments pressed between the books until she found the one McGonagall had given her.

She frowned when she read the words, written in the familiar scrawl of her teacher, out loud.

"You need to write lines."

"Excellent, my favourite." He said, while rubbing his hands together.

"Excuse me? You like doing lines?" Hermione asked. She couldn't believe it. The guy was completely bonkers.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I like it. It's either that or cleaning. Or helping Filch. With writing only your wrist hurts, when you have to clean it's your back, your arms, your legs aching all over. So, of course I like lines. I thought you were smarter, Granger."

She wisely chose to ignore that last comment.

"Alright then, you will be writing me 10 pages, full pages of course, with the line _'I need to behave in the hallways'_." She laughed. "God, Zabini, what did you do?"

"Is that interest for my personal life I hear?" She gave him a look. "Never mind. I did nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's what I said, Granger. You know, for the smartest witch your age, you're quite daft."

"I am supervising you, Zabini, so I guess you could start showing some respect." He snorted.

"Besides, _nothing_ can't give you a detention."

"Oh but with Minnie it can." He nodded.

"Minnie?"

"Yes yes, she likes me. Every week she wants to meet me." He answered.

Hermione grinned. "You mean, she gives you a _detention_ every week."

He waved her off. "That comes with the act. She can't show that she prefers one student over the other you see?"

"Of course," she said sarcastically.

"But she has never been so mean before to take away my Friday evening," he pouted.

"So what did you really do then?" Hermione asked. It was impossible not to be curious, even if she didn't give a damn about his personal life.

"I suppose I could've _accidently_ tripped Professor Flitwick and snogged a girl."

Hermione threw her head back as she laughed.

"You mean your lips were _accidently_ locked with some girl's?

"Ok, maybe not. But I didn't trip Flitwick on purpose!"

"I suppose you didn't." Hermione smiled. He was impossible. He was getting comfortable, putting his hands behind his head and leaning backwards. She didn't like him, but she had to admit that there was something about the boy.

"Anyway. I guess you should start writing your lines."

Zabini sighed and took out his parchment, quill and ink.

"Oh, and Zabini," he looked up. "I don't think I need to remind you _not_ to use magic."

She smiled when the boy scowled. She didn't think she'd ever seen a Slytherin pout, sulk or scowl. He was a strange one, indeed. Certainly not your average Slytherin.

"Good luck."

When the boy across from her was already furiously scribbling away, she sorted out her own parchment and books so she could work in peace.

Ok, maybe not in peace.

Well, it would be perfect if not for the idiot _humming_ across from her.

Yes, bloody humming!

Finally, her poor nerves couldn't take it anymore and she said loudly "Zabini!"

Her sudden outburst startled him and he made a big black streak on his parchment. He cursed loudly and tried rubbing off the ink. Hermione rolled her eyes and used her wand to remove the stain.

"Zabini," she repeated.

"What?" he asked a bit tense. Maybe he was already sick of writing lines. Well, his bad.

"Would you stop that."

He frowned. "Stop what?"

"The humming!"

He smiled as realisation dawned upon him.

"Sorry love, no can do."

"Excuse me?" she asked, eyes wide open.

"I can't stop humming. It comes natural to me and it helps me concentrate."

"Natural? Helps you concentrate? Well, it absolutely _ruins_ my concentration!"

He shrugged.

"Arggh!" She threw up her hands and went back to work. Trying to block out the obnoxious sound.

After a while she heard Zabini sigh.

"I'm ready."

She looked up at him and then to the clock against the wall.

"You're time isn't up yet, so I suggest you keep yourself quiet until you can go."

When she looked back at his face, his mouth hung open and he looked at her as if she'd gone mad.

Did he really think she was just going to let him go off?

"Let me see the parchment," she ordered as she extended her hand.

She saw the smirk rise slowly to his face and that sight unsettled her.

"No," he replied.

"What?" she asked confused.

"No, I won't give you my lines."

She looked at him, incredulity etched on her face. Her eyes drifted to the papers lying on his desk, but before she could take them, he'd snatched them away and darted across the room.

She groaned.

"God, Zabini. I'm not in the mood for your games."

"That's too bad love, because I am."

"You know, I've got better things to do." She turned back to her homework. He'd called her 'love'. Twice! The idiot.

He strode purposely towards her and stopped right behind her.

"Like doing homework?"

She never realised how close he was. She could feel his warm breath on her neck and she shivered.

Wait, did she actually shiver?!

"What are you playing at Zabini?"

"Nothing," he answered innocently. The smirk still firmly in place.

"Give me the papers."

"No," he repeated.

"Merlin, you're insufferable."

"But you love me for it."

She whirled around and found herself face to face with the handsome boy.

What? _Handsome_ boy?

"I don't _love_ you for it. Who told you that?"

"No one, but your lovely face says it all."

She blushed and he smirked.

Damn him.

"Either you leave me alone or you give me the papers, Zabini. My patience is running out."

"I still have to be here for," he looked at his watch – an expensive looking one, Hermione noticed, "15 minutes."

"Unfortunately yes," she mumbled.

He looked at her, sighed and took a step back. Hermione immediately noticed that his warmth disappeared too.

What was wrong with her?

He stretched out his arm and held the papers towards her.

Thank God, he had finally given in.

She forced herself out of her chair and reached for the papers. But the moment she almost had them in her hands, he moved his arm out of her reach and held them high above his head.

She almost stumped her foot on the cold floor.

"I am NOT playing this game with you, you git."

He smirked and waggled the papers in his hand.

She looked at the parchment and for one split second, Hermione forgot her dignity and jumped up, trying to grab the papers. But he only moved away slightly. And when her feet touched the ground again they were almost pressed together.

She glared at him and realised later that it was a big mistake.

They were so close she could see every speck of colour in his dark eyes. She could _feel_ his breath on her lips.

"Better luck next time, hon."

"There will be no next time, you pain in the arse," she answered dangerously.

He smiled softly. The first real, sincere smile she'd seen on his lips the whole evening.

She softly shook her head, trying to clear those bad thoughts from her head. And when

she tried to step away, his free arm moved around her waist, trapping her.

She tensed.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?"

She'd never seen someone move so fast and so slow at the same time. And when his soft lips touched hers, it took her breath away.

She gasped and he tightened his hold on her, pressing her completely against his body.

She didn't move, she couldn't even think. The pressure on her lips reminded her of what they were doing. Instead of pulling away – like she should've done – she snaked her hands up his shoulders.

He dropped the papers to the floor and his other hand came to rest between her shoulder blades where his thumb slowly drew circles. She sighed into his mouth.

This was wrong, so very very wrong, but it felt wonderfully good.

She didn't know how long it lasted. It could've been seconds, minutes, maybe hours. She'd lost all track of time.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers and mumbled: "You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that."

She didn't say anything to that comment. She couldn't, she was still trying to catch her breath. For a moment they stood there, just staring in each other's eyes until a smirk appeared on Blaise's mouth.

"I'll probably have detention again next week."

"Good," she said, smiling up at him.

---The End---

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